Issues

The design agenda: Copenhagen’s high hopes, Ecuador’s collaborative communities and a royal rumble in Saudi Arabia

City planning – Saudi Arabia
Royal Invitation

Established in 2017, the Royal Commission for Alula is master planning a vast overhaul of its namesake conurbation – an oasis in the Saudi Arabian desert. “We’ve got about 42,000 people living in Alula and the ambition is that by 2035 we’ll have 130,000 residents,” says Navdeep Hanjra, the commission’s vice-president of planning and development. “The only way we can reach those numbers is by ensuring we have policies in place, so that people want to stay.”

It’s an outlook that means Hanjra and her team are placing equal emphasis on improving the built environment and on the social aspects of city living. To deliver this vision, the Royal Commission for Alula has been working with the existing population from the outset. “We have launched a programme for local youth, training them to become guides. This allows them to give tours of the cultural sites in the area and capitalise on the knowledge they have from growing up in Alula,” says Hanjra. “This means they can talk about the more intangible heritage, having heard these stories from their grandfathers and so on.”

For Hanjra, such initiatives help build trust, a key element in delivering a place that makes new and existing residents feel welcome. “The only way you can do that is by involving people from the very start [of the master planning process],” adds Hanjra. “It’s about having a sense of belonging, where people see that the city is working to give back to the community and increasing opportunities for employment. We are putting Alula on the world map.”

On design
Nic Monisse On…
Beauty standards

I spent an early spring weekend in Clearwater Beach – and I can’t say that I plan on returning in a hurry. I found the contrasts in the small Floridian city, just outside Tampa, a little much: it’s a hotspot for college students seeking a beach break as well as elderly Midwesterners escaping the winter cold. Its architecture is equally varied. There are pockets of charming, low-slung condos and hotels from the 1970s and 1980s, with palm trees swaying in front of swimming pools. However, the 21st-century tourist and “snowbird” boom has seen countless big, brash apartment towers, devoid of personality and character, constructed on the beachfront too. The latter are, frankly, ugly.

I’m not alone in thinking this either. Clearwater City Council has been trying to find a way to halt the construction of these monotonous big-builds since the early 2000s. At every turn the local government has been hamstrung by the challenge of legislating for beauty – if a structure fits within the required footprint and height restrictions, it can be difficult to stop its construction on subjective grounds.

Fortunately, there might be a solution: a new book by Thomas Heatherwick, a designer who often plays on the outer reaches of the architectural establishment. Humanise: A Maker’s Guide to Building Our World suggests that while beauty may be subjective, a measure of whether a building is visually “interesting” is much more objective. Heatherwick Studio has developed a metric for calculating whether a structure has high levels of variation, detail and massing – architectural elements that create buildings which are, if not beautiful, certainly more interesting to look at than flat, plain, placeless towers.

While this digital technology is currently only employed by Heatherwick’s team, architects and city governments could use its principles to assess whether new design proposals will add to the visual appeal of a place. Should this happen in Clearwater Beach, I might even consider a return.

Retail – Paris
Orange zest

Out with the old, in with the new, as the adage goes. That’s certainly the case for Japanese fashion label Issey Miyake, which recently swapped its first Paris address on Rue Royale for a prime spot on Rue François 1er. Designed by Tokujin Yoshioka the new flagship occupies a 19th-century stone building in the 8th arrondissement.

A one-time employee of the brand, Tokyo-based Yoshioka retained the structure’s original façade – whose large windows flood the space with natural light – while reimagining its interior.

Inspired by Issey Miyake’s playful, minimalist aesthetic, pristine-white walls contrast with brushed-metal rails, beige stools and walls clad in orange anodised aluminium. “These contrasting colours, particularly the orange, give the impression of the sun,” says Yoshioka, who has designed a number of the brand’s shops over the past 30 years. “It adds a touch of futuristic energy to the space but also a sense of warmth, which reflects the philosophy of the brand.” The outcome? An uplifting spot to shop for your next L’Eau d’Issey fragrance or trademark pleated trouser.

Architecture – Porto
Siza matters

The Porto School, a design movement associated with some of Portugal’s most distinguished creative minds, is today synonymous with the city’s contemporary architectural vernacular. Likewise, the Serralves cultural campus has come to define Portugal’s contemporary art scene. Now these two symbols of Porto have come together in a new space, with the completion of the Serralves museum’s Álvaro Siza Wing, designed by its namesake architect. And while the first exhibitions hosted in the structure will celebrate the work of the Pritzker Prize-winner, this is not the first time Siza has left his imprint on the estate – the nonagenarian architect designed several of the buildings adjacent to the original art-deco Serralves villa.

The new, 4,200 sq m wing has corners that protrude into the sky and geometric cutouts that open up views into the surrounding Serralves park. Spread across three floors, its halls will host exhibitions dedicated to art and architecture. “Álvaro Siza is one of the greatest names in the history of architecture,” says Ana Pinho, CEO of the Serralves Foundation. “Here the Serralves Collection will be on permanent exhibition, while we will have dedicated space for architecture programmes.”

Society – Ecuador
Free for all

Guayaquil, Ecuador’s most populous city, is growing at a rate of more than 50,000 people per year, with new infrastructure needed to cater to new communities. One such project is the Hijos del Suelo (Sons of the Land) communal house in the El Faro de Mapasingue neighbourhood.

Funded by Italian NGO Cooperazione Internazionale, it was designed by local studio BBL, a collaboration between architects Pierre Berrú, Juan Carlos Bamba, and Jorge Ludeña. The trio took on the project pro bono, hosting participatory design sessions with almost 300 local families.

“Our approach stems from the Ecuadorian concept of minga, a tradition where members of the community collaborate on tasks like farming, construction or cleaning – all for free,” says Berrú. “On this project, we did everything through minga, including collecting furniture and objects to put inside the space before it was opened to the public.”

Today the space serves as a kindergarten and event space for the community; social workers also use it for their programmes. “Even with all the rough patches in the neighbourhood, it warms our hearts to see how the locals cherish and look after this building, never messing with it,” says Berrú. “It’s a sign that they’re happy and it shows that the space we created suits their needs just right.”

Urbanism – Copenhagen
Hitting the high notes

Copenhagen’s waterfront has undergone impressive redevelopment in recent decades. A host of cultural institutions and recreational hotspots have been built on the harbour, transforming it from a highly polluted industrial port into one of the most popular destinations in the Danish capital. The latest addition to this ever-evolving urban landscape comes courtesy of local architecture studio Cobe, which was tasked with creating a parking facility for the Opera House. The result? Opera Park, a lush space on top of the requisite underground car park.

“The unused plot was meant for housing but the client scrapped the plan,” says Cobe architect Alexander Ejsing. “Instead, we created a new recreational spot for everyone to use.” The park features winding paths that cross through six gardens with vegetation from different parts of the world, inspired by the area’s history as an international trade hub. 

At the heart of the green space is a glass pavilion with expansive views of the surroundings and water. Inside, a restaurant and café offer seasonal dishes, while a garden of tropical vegetation, which includes a 12-metre-tall tree, leads to the underground parking lot.

Beyond providing a destination for food and drink, the pavilion plays a crucial role in making the green space a year-round destination. “Winters are long here, so we didn’t want the park to be desolate half the year,” says Ejsing. “It’s important we make good use of it.”

The culture agenda: Barcelona’s forbidden treasures and Georgia’s burgeoning art scene

Art – Barcelona
Strike up the banned

A menacing gaze greets visitors as they venture into Barcelona’s newest museum. Perched on a seat beneath the stone staircase, the forbidding face belongs to a papier-mâché figure, which stares through painted-on sunglasses. Made in 1972 as part of the installation “Spectator of Spectators”, it is one of 100 statues made to depict the dictator Francisco Franco’s secret police, then placed among the audience during Pamplona’s Avant-Garde Art Festival. Not everyone was amused. The critique of the ruling regime’s surveillance culture saw many of the pieces destroyed, while others were stolen. Five decades on, the Museu de l’Art Prohibit (Museum of Forbidden Art) plonks a lone survivor in the front seat as a warning of what’s to come. Art, it reminds us, can be emotional, political and even drive people to violence.

Holding up a mirror to our thoughts and feelings is just what journalist and entrepreneur Josep Maria Benet i Ferran (or Tatxo Benet, as he is known) is angling for. “For some people, art is an aesthetic experience; for others, it’s an ethical question,” he tells Monocle. “I’m not very transcendental. For me, art is personal.”

The self-described “free speech absolutist” is a Catalan media mogul who co-founded the Spanish broadcasting powerhouse MediaPro in 1994. When an installation depicting Catalan secessionist leaders made by artist Santiago Serra was censored in 2018 during Madrid’s Arco art fair, Benet acquired the works as an act of solidarity. Further impassioned purchases followed – more than 200 sourced from across the globe. Now a selection of infamous artworks opens to the public across two floors of a refurbished modernist stately house. Cue the cumulative outrage.

With debates around censorship in art back in the spotlight, the museum’s director, Rosa Rodrigo, politely swats away any mention of radicalism. “It’s about giving the artists a home so that they can continue to express themselves,” she says. Other works include Goya’s self-censored series Los Caprichos, illustrations by prisoners at Guantanamo Bay and Nation Estate, a futuristic film from Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour. All are accompanied by detailed descriptions of shutdowns, protests, aggressions, even a diplomatic stand-off and one heavy-handed intervention from the Pentagon. For some, the displays will seem tasteless but there’s a subtler point being made here. Artists should be allowed to challenge without the fear of being cancelled or censored. Whether or not you’re a fan of the work, this is a museum that’s determined to let ideas breathe, rather than to hyperventilate.

Literature – USA
Q&A

André Aciman
Author

The US writer André Aciman is the author of several novels and works of non-fiction. He is best known for 2007’s Call Me by Your Name, a coming-of-age story about a romantic relationship between 17-year-old Elio and his father’s 24-year-old graduate assistant Oliver, set in northern Italy.

The author’s latest book, The Gentleman from Peru, again transports the reader to sunny Italy. Set on the Amalfi Coast, it follows a group of American friends on holiday who have an encounter with a mysterious resident at their hotel.

Why the Amalfi Coast?
I went to a hotel in Positano on the Amalfi Coast. It was so sublime, so beautiful and so restful there that, when I started the novella, I immediately set it there. It let me spend some time there in my imagination.

There’s a hint of mysticism to the tale. Were you inspired to write something magical?
I have no interest in magical realism and I wrote the story because I wanted to make fun of the genre. I was having fun with it but I got carried away. One always falls in love with something one is writing. I fell in love with this story of the gentleman from Peru, who has a fantastic memory, which goes beyond his birth, into the past and the future.

Why choose the novella?
I didn’t want to write a long novel. I like to leave things seemingly unfinished because I don’t like endings. I’m not comfortable with endings, because our lives themselves aren’t always neatly packaged.

‘The Gentleman from Peru’, published by Faber & Faber, is released on 4 April.

Art – Georgia
Small wonders

Can a small country of 3.6 million people sustain an international art fair? Kaha Gvelesiani worried a lot about that when he started the Tbilisi Art Fair (TAF) in 2018. He needn’t have. The TAF, which takes place in April at the Expo Georgia exhibition centre, is the highlight of the country’s art calendar and is helping to nurture its neighbouring nations’ emerging art scenes too. “Our mission is to cultivate a broader audience for artists, galleries and professionals in Georgia and beyond,” says its art director, Eric Schlosser. “We want to encourage professional skills in the region, as well as provide support for cross-border projects.”

Russia’s invasion of Ukraine might have made life increasingly uncertain in this corner of the world but TAF’s organisers don’t have plans to diverge from their mission. “As long as we have control, we will keep our agenda,” Schlosser tells Monocle.

This year’s fair runs from 11 to 14 April and is set to welcome about 15,000 visitors. Alongside a programme of talks featuring local and international speakers, artworks – which include pieces by Georgian textile artists Mariana Chkonia and the late Tamaz Nutsubidze – will be on sale, with prices ranging from €300 to €300,000. “This year’s entries display the complex intersections between manual craft and digital technology,” says Schlosser. “Artists who are retaining elements of the past and shaping their vision of the future.”
tbilisiartfair.art

Radio – Global
Stray thoughts

Alongside this magazine, we broadcast 24 hours a day on Monocle Radio. Here, three recent Monocle on Culture guests share their thoughts on life, art and cinema.

1
Christian Friedel, breakout star in the acclaimed film ‘The Zone of Interest’ on reading the room
“Some roles require toning it down,” says the actor, who plays Nazi officer Rudolf Höss in the film. “As an actor, you want to give all of yourself in all the scenes but here it was important to sometimes be invisible.”

2
Maggi Hambling, pioneering British artist, on the one word she doesn’t use
Look at everything as an experiment, says Hambling, who bans her students from using the word “sketch”. “It implies something that’s not important. Even the tiniest piece of paper, you should be addressing yourself to that bit of space.”

3
Matteo Garrone, Italian film-maker, on working with others
Be open to your approach to working with others, says Garrone, who considers the migrants employed as extras in his Oscar-nominated film Io Capitano as collaborators. “I was the film’s first spectator. They were co-directing the movie.”

To hear the full interviews, listen to ‘Monocle on Culture‘ at monocle.com/radio

The agenda opener: Updates from our correspondents and a conversation with Chris Black

How to live – Uniforms
Smart chance
Tyler Brûlé on why dressing the part is about more than just self-expression.

It was 2008. To mark the recent launch of Monocle, we had decided to host a dinner for our advertisers and bought crisp, white waiter jackets from Hakuï in Japan for the occasion. All was going to plan on the night until I overheard one of the serving staff tell her manager that she wasn’t happy with the jacket that she had been given.

“What’s wrong with it?” asked the manager. “It looks good on you.”

“It inhibits my creativity,” said the woman. “I need to express myself.”

What a curious comment, I thought. Had she been booked for the wrong event? Did she assume that there would be a dance component to the evening? Maybe some acrobatics? The exchange continued for another minute or so before the gent in charge told her that there was an alternative outfit for her: the coat that she had arrived in, which she should collect on her way out.

I didn’t recognise it at the time but that exchange was a taster of what many companies now have to contend with: staff putting their own freedom of expression before what’s best for the company. Firms must stand up for what is right for the brand, the customer and corporate culture.

In this fashion-and-hospitality-themed edition of Monocle, we highlight a few hotel brands that understand the power of giving their staff uniforms that make the wearer proud, while also allowing guests to identify who is staffing the lobby or bar. The vogue for putting everyone in polar fleece cannot be the solution for banks, airlines and courier companies. If you don’t like the uniform of a potential employer, you might want to reconsider applying.

Reporting from…

Monocle has a network of correspondents in cities around the world. This month, our brief updates feature greased wheels in London, a buzz above the streets of Tokyo and a wet’n’wild festival in Bangkok.

Tokyo
Honey trap

Ginza might be famed for its high-end shops and restaurants but less well known is that the area is home to five volunteer-run rooftop beehives. The Ginza Mitsubachi Project started in 2006; today 250,000 bees make two tonnes of honey every year. Tours are available, as is the sweet stuff.

Bangkok
Making a splash

Heading to Bangkok in April? Be prepared to get wet. Annual water festival Songkran is set to unfold over the entire month as part of the government’s push to promote Thai soft power. The festival’s global ambitions mean that it might one day rain on even the Easter bunny’s parade.

London
Pedal power

Is London in a golden era of cycling? Ridership is up 20 per cent on pre-pandemic levels, while cycling trips make up the equivalent of a third of all Tube journeys. Transport for London says that more than eight million motor-vehicle journeys a day could be biked instead.

The Interrogator
Chris Black
Co-host, ‘How Long Gone’

Chris Black is the New York- and Los Angeles-based co-host of podcast How Long Gone, as well as a cultural commentator and fashion consultant for brands such as J Crew. Alongside his co-host, Jason Stewart, Black offers a refreshingly honest take on the fashion, entertainment and hospitality industries, and regularly interviews high-profile musicians, restaurateurs and journalists. Here, we ask him about his media habits and what it takes to be a skilled conversationalist.

Where do you get your news?
Newspapers such as The New York Times and the Financial Times. I’m a big Puck person. I go to Mediastar for media news, Hits Daily Double for music and Vogue Business for fashion. I like to be in the know about all of these industries. Being informed helps my career and show. I never feel exhausted by keeping up with the news. Music, fashion and media are businesses that are constantly in flux.

What’s on your sofa-side magazine stack?
I have so much stuff. Apartamento, The Gentlewoman, Fantastic Man, Middle Plane, Staf, The New Yorker, The Paris Review, System, Epoch, L’Étiquette, Popeye, Slop. And then I have a lot of old issues of Index, The Face, Dazed & Confused and GQ. I have the first issue of Monocle.

‘How Long Gone’ doesn’t pull its punches when it comes to making fun of the industries it covers. Why do you think this approach has worked for you?
It’s fun and it comes from a place of respect. When you record three hours of yourself talking every week, you care less about what you’re saying and it’s easier to be honest. You’re not thinking about repercussions. Most people who listen to the show know that there’s a tongue-in-cheek element to it.

Do you think the cultural conversation is ready for a little more cheekiness?
People revel in doom and gloom. They make that an identifying feature. Yes, there are ills in the world. And maybe it’s worse now than it used to be. But you can’t let every little thing affect you. And humour or honesty still shine through.

What are your tips for being a good conversationalist?
Be curious. We are so used to talking about ourselves. Our culture rewards it. When it comes to conversation, the only way to make it interesting is to ask genuine questions. On our show, we have an hour with someone and we want to make it fun for all of us. And everybody likes talking about themselves.

Key messages

While it’s true that we’re bookshop and newsstand aficionados here at Monocle, even we are prepared to admit that some shopping experiences can be a tad mirthless. Luckily, Lisbon retailers Luis Cunha and Arturas Slidziauskas might have found a solution: humour. Our editors recently visited the pair’s shop, Under the Cover, in Bairro Azul. There, we discovered the art of canny copywriting flourishing in an unlikely place: on keychains, emblazoned with arch, oddball slogans. Was it Kant or a keyring that first said, “My cat is right about you”? You get the idea. Sure, it’s not quite Pessoa but it certainly sends a message: words matter and the best ones ring true. And it’s also a reminder that a little humour here and there can be as key to reading as it is to retail.

Three things you’ll learn

Monocle’s correspondents have brought back insights into design, world leaders, education and more. Here are just three things you’ll learn in this issue.

1.
Kyriakos Mitsotakis doesn’t mince his words
The Greek prime minister isn’t amused by a recent report about press freedom in his country. “May I be a little blunt?” he asks Monocle contributing editor Andrew Mueller, who he spoke to at the Munich Security Conference. “This report is a joke.” The EU’s report – not ours, we hope. Read our Q&A for more on Greek equality, defence and how to handle the neighbours here.

2.
Not everyone needs (or wants) a university degree
Education rates are rising but university courses can lead to debt and not always to jobs. That might be why a growing number of US students are choosing to take a hands-on approach. We visit North Bennet Street School in Boston to see what the next generation is making of the opportunity to learn a trade here.

3.
Paris is home to tens of thousands of state-owned design treasures
French diplomats have a secret weapon when it comes to showing off Gallic design: Mobilier National. Since the 17th century, this Paris-based workshop has decked out embassies, repaired priceless antiquities, dressed rooms and provided fittingly grand backdrops for statecraft here.

Tipping point

US tipping culture is on the march and could soon be coming to an after-dinner bill, factura or Rechnung near you (writes Christopher Lord). I have always preferred not to complain about what is an unavoidable fact of dining out stateside, even if it confounds most visiting Europeans. Yet I have started to see its influence spreading: a percentage point added to the bill in London restaurants, for example, and a growing pressure to fork out. Most Americans recognise that tipping is out of control. Gratuity has become gratuitous.

Point-of-sale (POS) machines – those devices at the till on which you tap your card, digitally sign your name and select a tip percentage – have become ubiquitous. Adding 20 per cent was once a solid recognition of good service in the US but some pos machines now urge you to add more than 35 per cent to your bill – all before you get your coffee. How do you know that the service will be any good?

For daily opinions, analysis and insights, subscribe to The Monocle Minute, our free email newsletter, at monocle.com/minute

Wild blue yonder

It has been almost 42 years since Argentina lost its war with the UK over the Falklands. It has been 11 years since the people of the Falkland Islands voted – 1,513 to three – to remain an overseas territory of the UK. Argentina has never taken the hint. Perhaps the only Argentinian political orthodoxy observed by its eccentric new president, Javier Milei, is the belief that the Falkland Islands are in fact Islas Malvinas and should be returned.

The dispute has nevertheless long been at a fairly low simmer: even the combustible Milei has ruled out another war. However, the standoff is bad news for the South Atlantic’s sea creatures. Wedged between the UK’s exclusive economic zone (EEZ) surrounding the Falkland Islands, and Argentina’s EEZ, which borders Argentina, is a rich but lawless realm that has become known as the Blue Hole.

The area has been overrun by trawlers (many of them Chinese), drawn by the area’s extraordinary diversity of marine life, as well as by the fact that there’s nothing to stop them from harvesting as much of it as they can carry. Reports suggest that many of the trawlers turn off their tracking systems, further liberating them from oversight.

A possible solution would be the establishment of a Regional Fisheries Management Organisation (RFMO) but that would involve Argentina co-operating with the UK – therefore implicitly acknowledging that the UK gets a say in the matter. It is quite the diplomatic conundrum but reaching a compromise would be (marginally) easier than persuading the local squid to avoid the area.

Editor’s letter: Andrew Tuck talks going on with the show

Monocle has always had a penchant for a good trade fair. Enter the halls of convention centres across the world and you are suddenly immersed into the lives of coffee traders, bathroom-equipment manufacturers, textile brands or motor manufacturers. While some events come and go from our schedule, many of these gatherings remain annual fixtures on our editorial calendar. One of these is Mipim, the world’s most important property and real estate event. The marché international des professionnels de l’immobilier (hence why they call it Mipim) has been running since 1990 and has an attractive home, the Palais des Festivals in Cannes (the venue that also hosts the town’s famous film festival).

But it’s not just the chance to be in the south of France that pulls us in. As you walk the halls, track down people for interviews and off-the-record briefings, you build a detailed map of which cities and nations are on the move – often upwards with the help of skyline-defining edifices – and where’s struggling. But you also get a sense of social trends – is office life truly doomed or just transforming? Do people feel secure and welcome in the cities where they live? If not, why? And you can also spot who’s really investing in sustainability, in beauty, in liveability; and who the sharks are. We’ll be heading back there in March, finding the stories that we think you should know about and tracking down the people we should all be listening to.

But why wait until then? For this issue of Monocle, we have hit the streets in cities from São Paulo to Copenhagen to meet the developers, foundations, builders and co-operatives that we think are doing some good. People and organisations that are looking beyond pure profit to deliver care homes where the elderly are embraced by architecture, offices where people find collaboration and consensus easy to achieve, buildings that have been adapted for re-use with élan. It’s a realm that we should all take an interest in – the world of property and development can make or break a neighbourhood and shape our lives for the better or for the worse.

As part of the report, I met architect Guillermo Reynés of gras Reynés Arquitectos in Palma de Mallorca to see through his eyes a project that he has delivered for the Fluxà family, founders of Camper shoes among other things. It’s a series of seven buildings built around a busy intersection of roads in the El Terreno neighbourhood, once the happening heart of nightlife but in recent years down on its luck. Client and architect have come together to create a series of buildings that contain homes to rent, a café to linger in, offices, a flower shop, a bakery and a supermarket – all in a rich array of colours and materials. As with many of the people we interviewed, both Reynés and Miguel Fluxà, CEO of Camper, spoke less about profit (they could have just lobbied for another hotel) than about giving back to a city they care about.

One country that seems to be hiring ever bigger booths and stands at trade fairs is Poland. In sectors from finance to medicine, architecture and, yes, property, Poland is playing an ever-more important role. But there’s one trade where its rise is truly astonishing: furniture manufacturing. Flatpack masters and high-end brands have all been coming to the country to have products expertly made. Poland is now one of the world’s top-three furniture exporters. This month, our Expo trundles through snowy forests and into hi-tech factories as we grasp what’s been happening.

We also meet the conscripts in the Lithuanian army, discover the most covetable collection of graphic design for sale, see how France intends to keep crowds at the Olympic Games safe and meet the chefs who cook for presidents and kings. 

Some different house news. We have a lot of projects and plans in play for 2024: expect more physical Monocle spaces, new books, a digital initiative and plenty of events. The first of these is an outing for The Chiefs, the event where we ask leaders in numerous fields to tell us their stories, reveal their tips for success. It’s in Hong Kong on Wednesday 27 and Thursday 28 March. Come. We’d love to see you. We might even check out some real estate.

Please feel free to send suggestions, tips and perspectives. You’ll find me at at@monocle.com.

Illustrator: Motiejus Vaura

Spring into action with brand new styles

Grooming: Sam Basham
Model: Alexis Petit

The culture agenda: How Denmark’s film school gives its alumni a starring role in Hollywood

cinema –– denmark
Behind the camera

With multiple Oscar and Palme d’Or winners to their name, Danes have long punched above their weight when it comes to cinema. Their government recently acknowledged this by allocating a further DKK40m (€5.4m) to its already generous financial support for the industry in 2024. Much of the credit for Danish film-making’s global success should go to Den Danske Filmskole (The National Film School of Denmark), which The Hollywood Reporter named as one of the world’s top film schools last year.

“This is the most important institution in Danish cinema,” says the school’s director, Tine Fischer. “It has a long list of graduates who have helped to lift Danish film and TV to its unique international position over the past 50 years. That’s partly because it has a close relationship with the industry. Our students make films as soon as they start here – and when they leave, they go directly into the industry.”

Alumni have founded successful studios such as Zentropa and Nimbus Films straight after graduation. The former was set up by Lars von Trier, the Antichrist director known for his provocative work, who attended the school before he added the “von” to his name. Other past students include Bille August, Susanne Bier and Thomas Vinterberg, who won the best foreign film Oscar in 1989, 2011 and 2021, respectively. Vinterberg, one of the alumni who founded the influential Dogme 95 movement, has said: “The four or five tricks that I use when I make films come from my days at the film school.”

The school is the country’s most competitive educational institution, with more than 1,000 applicants for just 48 places every two years. According to Fischer, its small size is crucial to its success. “It’s like with elite sports,” she says. “Our students are looked after individually, with many hours of personal dialogue and feedback. They develop according to their own potential, artistic vision and ambition.”

Collaboration is another key focus. “How we operate has always been defined by the fact that writing students work very closely with the film-makers,” says Fischer. “In the future our students will have to work between sectors, so narratives will be about IP: you create a universe that works across art, theatre, film, TV series and games.”

The emphasis on teamwork is what makes the school intrinsically Danish. “Director students don’t hang on to their idea for a month,” says Fischer. “They constantly unfold their vision as part of a group. And if they later go to work in Hollywood, people are struck by how well they can work collaboratively with others. That’s why they get hired again.”

School rules
Founded in 1966, Den Danske Filmskole is housed in a converted 19th-century artillery store in Holmen, a former military zone across the harbour from Copenhagen city centre. It is funded by the state at a cost of dkk50m (€6.7m) a year.

The school, which is close to the Copenhagen Opera House and the Royal Danish Academy, offers eight four-year bachelor programmes: animation, documentary direction, fiction direction, cinematography, editing, screenwriting, production and sound editing. The education it offers is the country’s second most expensive, after training navy frogmen. The school is open to students of all nationalities but most of the teaching is in Danish. International students must pay €25,000 a term; the state covers the tuition fees of those from Denmark.

journalism –– iowa
Think local

More than 2,000 newspapers have closed in the US in the past two decades, leaving many areas with scant media coverage. Iowa Capitol Dispatch is among a small number of outlets that are seeking to plug the gap. The website is part of a not-for-profit network called States Newsroom, which funds journalism in almost 40 states across the country and supplies local newsrooms with stories. Since the Dispatch launched in Des Moines in 2020, the appetite for its work has been robust; its subscriber base has doubled in the past year.

Kathie Obradovich, the site’s editor in chief, tells Monocle that there’s a particularly urgent need for high-quality journalism in Iowa, a rural state with an outsized influence because of its first-in-the-nation caucuses. “People pay attention to politics here, especially young people,” she says. “They see how cool it is that they have a voice and that, every four years, they get the opportunity to meet presidential candidates and ask them questions.”

In January, Donald Trump’s landslide victory in the Republican caucuses confirmed Iowa’s shift from swing state to GOP stronghold. “This is a result of a combination of reasons,” says Obradovich. “Rural areas have felt disconnected from the state capitol for a long time. But I put some of it at the feet of Trump, who has helped to increase the polarisation here.” In a pivotal US election year, Iowa Capital Dispatch’s reporting on stories that might otherwise go untold will be crucial.

books –– berlin
Q&A
Lauren Oyler
Culture writer and novelist

Lauren Oyler’s new collection of essays, No Judgement, is published by Virago this month. Her debut novel, Fake Accounts (2021), was well received, but she is best known for her acerbic literary criticism. In No Judgement, she explores topics ranging from gossip and Goodreads to expat life in Berlin and attempting “jaw yoga” to ease her anxiety-fuelled teeth grinding. Here, she tells us about the state of cultural criticism, her writing process and “difficult” pieces of art.

What did you write ‘No Judgement’ in response to?
Many people have this idea that cultural criticism and commentary have a short lifespan because the news cycle is so fast. I disagree with that. I wanted to see whether the arguments that I was making in, say, 2019 would still hold now. I wanted to contextualise some of these contemporary conversations.

What was your writing process?
It’s not natural to write six long essays in a row. Ideally, the essay is an occasional form but it worked well because the pieces inform each other in ways that I didn’t intend.

Why is wrestling with ‘difficult’ art important?
I identify and empathise with people who are intimidated by the idea of tackling something difficult, particularly books. You have to learn to read them as you read them. But when we say, “This is difficult, most people aren’t going to like it,” that’s going to turn them off immediately. Instead, we should say, “It’s hard for me too, but you can do it,” and show that the effort that you put in is rewarding.

language –– paris
English channelling

Emmanuel Macron has inaugurated Paris’s Cité Internationale de la Langue Française as part of his pledge to boost the number of French speakers around the world. Nestled in the former Renaissance chateau of King François I in the capital’s northeast, the centre will celebrate the French language and its cultural prowess.

The €211m spent on the shiny new building shows just how much of a priority this project is to the government – as far as cultural overhauls go, the budget is second only to that of the renovation of the Notre-Dame cathedral. The reason for this is simple. According to the Académie Française, the national body in charge of moderating the French language, English words are now trickling in to the French vernacular more than ever. The way that linguistic purists see it, those who use these imported terms aren’t just doing themselves a disservice. They’re also breaking the law.

Under the Toubon Law of 1994, it is illegal to use phrases such as “le parking”, “le job” or – God forbid – “le happy hour” in any document that is funded by the state. But with the Paris 2024 Olympic Games on the horizon, curbing such forms of linguistic treason, as the Académie refers to them, will be harder than ever. The use of both French and English across the event’s communications suggests that these Games might not be quite as French as some people would like. Perhaps the Académie would be better off taking a more laissez-faire approach.

The unsung heroes of Venice who keep the city nourished and thriving

Before dawn, the narrow cobblestone thoroughfares of Venice are deserted apart from street sweepers and delivery people wheeling carts of fresh produce to restaurants. Along the quiet alleys, there are still wet patches from the previous night’s tidal floods that have now receded – a frequent occurrence in this city of islands, where the shallows of the Adriatic flank many paths and roads.

At Piazza San Marco, Venice’s lowest-lying location, some of the puddles are deep enough to become baths for the seagulls. When Monocle arrives at the Grancaffè Quadri restaurant, staffer Daniel Galindo is busy vacuuming up floodwater from the dining room’s floor. “The city is set on a lagoon so we have to live with this,” he says. Running a restaurant on dry land is already complicated; in Venice, it also requires staff who are comfortable with being at the mercy of aquatic forces.

First inaugurated in 1638 and originally called Il Rimedio, the Grancaffè Quadri has been a fixture of Piazza San Marco for centuries. The Alajmo family took over in 2011, with a revamp of the upstairs by star designer Philippe Starck, a menu by chef Massimiliano Alajmo of the three-Michelin-starred Le Calandre & a kitchen headed by chef Sergio Preziosa, who earned Quadri its own Michelin star. Clearly, high waters and cramped kitchens haven’t held back the team.

A few steps from the Grancaffè Quadri, at the dock near the Palazzo Ducale, sunbeams break through the clouds onto the Grand Canal. The scene looks like a Canaletto painting but there’s no time to be distracted: Monocle is here to observe the restaurant staff unload cartons of olive oil, wine and pasta. The men perform a well-practised dance, forming a human chain of box-tossing. Then they dexterously wheel their handcarts between the columns of San Marco and San Todaro, and into the Grancaffè Quadri’s kitchen through the back-alley door. Wine, however, is inconveniently stored in a separate space some distance away. “That too is a reality in Venice,” says Galindo. “You can’t have a cellar in a city where water flows underneath.” As they get to work, we venture to Venice’s Rialto Market to meet fishmonger Marco Bergamasco, who shows us around the many steel stalls piled up with cod, squid, razor clams and other sea creatures. Then we climb into his motorboat to return to the Grancaffè Quadri and deliver a crate of sea bass; the fish is a key part of today’s lunch menu. “You can’t take a sick day in this line of work,” says Bergamasco, ducking his head as we glide under a low canal bridge. Still, having left a cushy industrial design career to be on the water every morning, he loves his job.

Tourists on dry land photograph the passing gondolas but largely ignore us. The everyday labour of the city’s residents and workers that keeps it all afloat is invisible to most visitors. Docking to deliver the fish, we notice that though water has gathered in large puddles on the piazza, the Grancaffè Quadri remains almost miraculously dry as a result of its staff’s efforts. “Everything is twice as complicated here,” says chef Sergio Preziosa. Even so, the restaurant maintains the atmosphere of a heart-warming old-time establishment.

Inside, handsome waiters are dressing the tables with white cloths, while young chefs stock the kitchen and prepare their stations. The waiters have now changed into their formalwear: tuxedos with bow ties, their hair pomaded. There is jazz music playing as the doors open at 09.30. “Pronti?” they call towards the kitchen. There’s a long day ahead: the doors won’t close until midnight.

The Japanese miniature artist who takes the little things in stride

Artist Tatsuya Tanaka doesn’t see the world like everyone else. Where we see a paper cup, he sees a drum; where we see a bunch of parsley, he sees a forest. He looks at any object, no matter how humdrum, as potential material for one of his tiny creations: witty, miniaturised versions of daily life. Tanaka’s scenes are funny and fascinating. But just as impressive is his productivity: he has created an artwork every day since 20 April 2011.

Before he became a full-time artist, Tanaka (pictured) was working as a graphic designer. “When Instagram was starting up, I had a few miniature models at home and started posting pictures of them as a hobby,” he says. “But people said that they wanted to see something daily.”

Tanaka’s studio is on an upper floor of a regular block of flats in the laid-back Japanese city of Kagoshima. “Studio” might be a stretch: his workspace is a compact – and meticulously tidy – room in the home that he shares with his wife and two sons. He sits at a desk surrounded by drawers of carefully sorted and labelled miniatures – miniscule Converse trainers, diminutive dogs and tiny jeeps, scooters and camper vans. There are crowds of tiny people too, all grouped by profession, from surgeons to snow jumpers and sumo wrestlers. There are pagodas and wooden houses; even a troupe of Japanese festival musicians; and many versions of Tanaka himself.

The artist works with a small team – his wife, an assistant and a manager – and rents another apartment in an adjacent building that is full of figures, plastic food and old electrical appliances. “I collect everything,” he says. “You never know when it might be useful.” Apart from the odd gifted camera lens, Tanaka has mostly resisted sponsorship. Snack companies have asked him to feature their products in his work but he always says no. “If I had to stick to certain brands, it would limit what I do,” he says. He writes books (several of which have been translated into English and French), publishes a physical calendar every year and is touring his Miniature Life exhibition, which has attracted more than two million visitors.

“Books can take you to places you will never experience,” he says. “It’s the same with my work. I can create miniature worlds and go anywhere.” And he’s bringing along people from all over the world. “Most adults are so busy living their lives, worrying about work, food and laundry – there’s no time to think about creativity,” he says. “Seeing these miniatures seems to bring out the inner child in people.” That’s no small feat.
miniature-calendar.com

How Nakijin Tsuwabuki creates a unique destination rooted in natural landscape

“In Nakijin, there’s a saying: noon nen shiga,” says Miyako Shimmi with a smile. “In the Okinawan language, this means that while there might be nothing here, Nakijin will satisfy your heart. There are no resort hotels or theatres; there’s nothing of that kind. But upon coming here, you’ll be fulfilled by the natural landscape that is the pride of Nakijin.”

Located on the northern side of the Motobu peninsula on Okinawa’s main island, the village of Nakijin is a place where life ambles by at a leisurely pace. Fukugi-lined streets lead through traditional settlements towards crystal-clear coves, while lush forests envelop the mountains. Within these peaceful surroundings, Miyako and Seiichi Shimmi opened their villa Nakijin Tsuwabuki on the winter solstice in 2022.

Four years in the making, the project has seen a partly forested site spanning almost 3,000 sq m become the setting for an exclusive villa limited to one booking per night. Miyako’s early encounters with the place, which had grown wild after intermittent periods of agricultural use, provided a taste of its natural charm and potential, leading her to envision ways to preserve and share the unique mountain landscape.

As a newcomer to Okinawa, she began assembling a team of collaborators from scratch, starting with ceramicist and sculptor Koichi Uchida. Inspired by Uchida’s efforts to preserve banko-yaki ceramics in her hometown of Yokkaichi, she brought him onto the project as an advisor to help form something that could endure for generations to come. The ceramicist would help to shape the project, while also creating the reception tea space and its ceramic tableware, along with selecting a range of antique furniture.

During the early stages of the project, Miyako was also introduced to Nanjo-based architect Hiroyuki Yamaguchi, who worked closely with her to bring the vision to life. “Upon joining the project, my first thought was to cherish and respect the site,” says Yamaguchi. “We surveyed almost everything, including individual tree heights and locations, then determined how best to work with the topography while minimising our impact.”

Considering the unique nature of the site, initial plans for multiple villas were replaced with a concept that focused on enriching the experience of a single group of guests. Yamaguchi’s comprehensive studies, which included the production of hundreds of models in pursuit of the ideal configuration and scale, led to a design in which the main bedroom, dining area and open-air bath are dispersed throughout the landscape. “Rather than focusing on the architecture, I was more interested in the act of moving between buildings through the living, breathing forest,” says Yamaguchi. “Instead of imposing myself on the design, I sought to create something that would take precedence in its own right.”

The architect’s ongoing dialogue with the owners, coupled with a desire to find harmony between built and natural forms, yielded spaces that merge and complement their surroundings. Perched among the treetops, the main bedroom opens to the forest on one side, while on the other, ocean views unfurl through a break in the foliage.

Arriving at the space via a staircase of Ryukyu limestone, one is greeted by a calm interior wrapped in Hinoki cypress. The attention to detail extends further, from the original Tsuwabuki confectionery to the height of the custom-made bed bases, which have been carefully calculated to offer the best views of the horizon.

The dining area, which is just a short stroll down the slope, hosts a daily breakfast service. Prepared by Seiichi with the warmth of a home-cooked meal, the menu centres on just-milled rice prepared on a wood-burning stove. An emphasis on local organic produce sees a range of Okinawan flavours worked into the morning spread, whether it be locally caught snapper, freshly made shima dofu (island tofu) or mangoes from a nearby farm. Pickles and condiments are made in-house; even the sea salt used here is drawn from Nakijin waters. For evening meals, chefs can be arranged to cook a private dinner to savour.

Through every facet of the Nakijin Tsuwabuki experience, which begins with tea in the intimate reception space, the owners seek to create something truly original. Consistently drawing from the power of the Nakijin landscape, incorporating elements both new and inherited, they have crafted a place to feel at home and relax in the company of nature. “I believe that true luxury is the special feeling that comes from things that can only be experienced there and then, whether it be architecture, people or cuisine,” says Miyako. “Therein lies the spirit of Tsuwabuki’s hospitality.

Carving out a niche in the timber-furniture industry

In late winter the weather conditions at Kleniewski Tartak can make work difficult. Surrounded by the dark forests of southeastern Poland, the sawmill is covered in snow when Monocle arrives. And yet it is buzzing with activity. Trucks rumble in, loaded with fresh supplies of wood, and cranes whir into action, extending their claws into the air.

The busy scene is emblematic of Poland. The country’s economy has flourished since the fall of communism in 1989 and, with more than a third of its landscape covered in forests, international furniture brands across the globe have taken note of Poland’s plentiful resources and robust financial system. It’s a situation that has helped to transform the country into the world’s third-largest exporter of furniture. Kleniewski Tartak is prospering.

Success hasn’t been effortless. “When I took over the sawmill from my father in 2017, we were mainly selling to the domestic market,” says Kleniewski Tartak’s owner, Waldemar Kleniewski. “I needed to show international clients that we were a modern company.” Buying Italian and Swedish machines to modernise production, Kleniewski shifted to processing raw oak and decentralised decision-making to employees. It involved breaking with the standards that had existed in Poland for decades, says Kleniewski. “It is the right way to do business.”

At 29, Kleniewski is young for a sawmill owner. But his entrepreneurial energy is common across the country. Down a winding road through the forest, Monocle finds two of Kleniewski’s local customers: Beata Woloszyn and Damian Wasyl, a young couple who co-founded the furniture company Raw just over a decade ago.

Their path to establishing the brand is atypical for the furniture industry. Both born in the small town of Tomaszow Lubelski, it took moving hundreds of kilometres away to Warsaw – and in the case of Wasyl to Rotterdam – to realise their true calling. “I’m a third-generation carpenter,” says Wasyl. “But while my predecessors had to focus on filling in the gaps left in the market by communism, making everything from fences to doors, we can focus on the current shortage: affordable, high-quality furniture made from natural materials.” The pair ultimately returned to their hometown to set up Raw and Woloszyn says that they received an immediate, positive reaction from the community and customers. “Poles want furniture made in Poland now, not Germany or Italy,” he says. “That desire is increasing around Europe too.”

With only a handful of workers, Raw is on the smaller end of Polish furniture brands. It is in the country’s centre, in a triangle between the three cities of Lodz, Wroclaw and Poznan, where manufacturing for major international brands, including Denmark’s Fritz Hansen and Sweden’s Ikea, can be found. Also in this fertile production region is Converis, a company dedicated to rotomoulding, a plastic moulding process used to create large pieces of furniture. “Half of our customers are domestic and the other half international,” says Converis director Tomasz Dyszkant, inspecting a stack of multicoloured pieces, which will soon be made into a playground in Israel. “A Danish company designed them, we manufacture, then they are shipped off across the world.”

When Monocle visits, the Converis team is creating Polish brand Vzor’s iconic chair, RM58, by pouring resin into metal moulds and setting it in an oven heated to 220C. “Designers are on the lookout for new possibilities and technologies,” says Dyszkant, who is overseeing the work. “There are exciting developments on the horizon.”

In another factory, Claudie Design, managers attest to the importance of the wider region too – specifically Ukrainian workers. Though there was a large influx following Russia’s invasion in 2022, they had long been filling gaps in Poland’s workforce. Producing its own brand furniture, the factory carries out orders for brands both foreign and domestic.

While manufacturing takes place in the regions, Warsaw is the country’s design capital. In the city’s downtown, at Polish brand 366 Concept’s showroom, the sense of a place buzzing with international connections is obvious. It is the perfect setting for their namesake piece: the 366 armchair. Designed by Jozef Chierowski in 1960, the chair instantly became an icon of Polish design, says the brand’s co-founder, Maciek Cypryk. “But it couldn’t break onto the international stage because of communist rule. Our design heritage remained unrecognised for too long.” Now reconnected to the world, the showroom’s Parisian feel is deliberate – after all, France is the brand’s biggest market.

And while there’s a design heritage to be tapped into, there’s also an urgency to secure Poland’s design future – an ambition continued by the School of Form, Poland’s leading design institution. Part of swps University, School of Form was founded in 2011 by Piotr Voelkel, a Polish businessman. “Though Voelkel had a furniture business based here in Poland, he couldn’t find any well-educated designers in the country to work with,” says the school’s artistic director, Agnieszka Jacobson-Cielecka. The school was formed in collaboration with Lidewij Edelkoort, former director of Eindhoven’s Design Academy.

As former artistic director of Lodz Furniture Festival and long-time curator, Jacobson-Cielecka is used to bringing people together. “We wanted to create a juncture where different mediums, experiences and influences meet,” she says. Students are invited to meet international designers several times a year. Polish tutors with experience abroad are also sought out. Down the corridor, Londoner Stas Macleod is working with students in the metal workshop, while Westminster School of Architecture alumna Megi Malinowska is teaching product design.

In the carpentry room, Monocle catches up with Szymon Pasierb, head of the school’s prototyping workshops. Returning to Poland after studying at London Metropolitan University, Pasierb is focused on reviving Poland’s forgotten education traditions. “With the changes of the past decades, Poland lost its craft schools,” says Pasierb. “But if you read the papers and listen to people’s conversations, you can sense that there is a need for them.” Pointing towards the northern port city of Gdansk and the southern, mountainous town of Zakopane, Pasierb says that the country has its own craft traditions to be proud of.

An hour’s drive out of the capital and monocle finds evidence of that craft bubbling away. Domenico Russo and Kaja Alaszkiewicz met in Italy, when Alaszkiewicz was on a university exchange programme from Warsaw. Moving to the UK together after graduation proved to be the catalyst for establishing their own business: in London, Russo stumbled across a furniture workshop in the city’s east that inspired him to swap a desk for a workbench. “My grandfather was a woodworker back in Italy and all my memories came flooding back,” says Russo. “I realised that I needed to make a change.”

The couple set up their furniture brand Nudo in 2018 and chose the Warsaw region as the location. “It’s not as expensive as London and there is a feeling that things are happening here,” says Alaszkiewicz. The mix of Polish craft and Italian heritage has proved essential for success.

In Warsaw’s Mokotow district, Maja Ganszyniec, Polish designer and founder of Nurt, greets Monocle at her brand’s showroom. “Back in 2000, it wasn’t just that Poland was a different country; it was a different universe,” she says. Being a satellite state of the ussr had frozen the country in time, Ganszyniec explains, depriving it of everything from clothes to cars. “Ikea had started manufacturing in our country in the 1960s but we weren’t even able to buy the pieces they were making.”

However, unlike so many others, Ganszyniec grew up with a glimpse behind the Iron Curtain. “My childhood home was a beautiful 1930s villa,” she says. “It was filled with furniture from all over Europe. I knew that things had been different once.”

Studying abroad in Milan and then at London’s Royal College of Art, Ganszyniec felt instinctively that her country had something to offer. “Often when people want to compliment my designs or Polish design, they’ll say it looks Scandinavian. But that’s a back-handed compliment,” she says. “We share a sea, nature, architectural styles, history; of course the designs are similar.” She has made it her life’s work to achieve recognition for Poland’s own style and aesthetic. “When someone says ‘Polish design’, people don’t have famous names or iconic pieces to relate to. Our job is to build up that picture.”

There are challenges to maintain momentum but Ganszyniec says that Poland will always prosper because of its people’s innate curiosity. “Imagine you are in the most remote place on Earth,” she says. “You think that there is no one there but lift up a rock and you’ll find a Polish person. We were held back for so long. But now that we’re free, no one can stop us.”