What is your dialekt? How would you describe your approach to design - your own visual or material language?

My design language is shaped less by a specific aesthetic and more by a way of observing and collecting ideas over time. I constantly make notes and small sketches throughout the day. In the beginning, these ideas are often still very undefined - some sit in a sketchbook for months or years. What I enjoy most is the moment when sketches begin to leave the page. Having an object in front of me is often the most honest form of feedback. Wood is not a passive material and prototypes rarely behave exactly as expected. I enjoy this direct dialogue between thinking and making.

Where does that dialect come from? What made you the designer you are?

A mixture of curiosity, making, and a slightly winding path to get here. As a child, I loved inventing and building things. My mother had a strong sense of aesthetics, and I can trace my interest in both making and design back to those early influences. Studying product design gave a name to things I was already interested in - but it took until I was 27 to admit I wanted to properly learn the craft of woodworking. At the time the path felt uncertain and indirect. Looking back, it makes more and more sense.

What is local design to you? Does that change how you approach a design, and where in the process do you feel it most?

For me, local design is less about geography and more about proximity. Working closely with craftspeople and workshops creates a direct dialogue that often leads to better decisions and better objects. More broadly, local design means taking people along on the journey of how something is made - understanding the process creates appreciation not just for the object, but for the people, skills, and time behind it. Maybe that's ultimately what local means to me: a sense of connection between people and the things they choose to live with.

How did the Popsicle series came to life?

It started with a simple and somewhat absurd observation: the rounded wooden sticks of ice pops. I first sketched the idea serveral years ago long before it became a chair. Like many ideas in my sketchbook, it remained there for quite a while. A few years later I came across the sketch again, while preparing for an application for Milan Design Week. Instead of opening a CAD program, I literally started playing around with actual ice cream sticks and glued together a small-scale model. The jury liked the idea and it started to evolve into something real. What fascinated me was how familiar and universally recognisable this small everyday object is. I wanted to explore what would happen if that visual memory was translated into a piece of furniture.